


Stealing Time

by FagurFiskur



Series: 30 (more) cheesy tropes [14]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Ghosts, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-15
Updated: 2015-01-15
Packaged: 2018-03-07 14:45:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3176396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FagurFiskur/pseuds/FagurFiskur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is something strange going on in the school library.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stealing Time

**Author's Note:**

> 30 (more) cheesy tropes: #28 Ghost AU
> 
> Title taken from Eye of the Needle by Sia (guess which album I've been listening to lately).

Cas is already in the cafeteria by the time Dean gets there, as usual. He's offered many times to wait by his classroom until Dean gets there so they can walk together, but Dean's always turned him down on the grounds that somebody needs to save their spot.

 

"It's not a spot anyone wants," Cas reminds him.

 

Which, true enough. There are way more seats available in the cafeteria than there are students on lunch break at any given time, and most people don't want to sit in a spot where they have full view of what's going on behind the counter (it's not pretty. The lunch lady's had a nasty cough for weeks and she doesn't bother much with turning her head).

 

Still, Dean shrugs. "You never know."

 

He digs into his meal with fervor, ignoring the slightly disgusted look Cas shoots him. He knew what he was signing up for when he became friends with Dean.

 

"They're opening the old drive-in-theater again," Cas says.

 

"What, you mean the one that closed when we were kids?" Dean asks through a mouthful of food. He can vaguely remember sitting in his mom's lap in the front seat, watching some old cartoon. Bugs Bunny, he thinks.

 

Cas nods. "In a couple of weeks."

 

"Huh."

 

"It might be interesting to go," Cas continues. "I've heard that drive-in-theaters used to be popular for dates."

 

Dean swallows and clears his throat uncomfortably. "Yeah. Doesn't really sound like my type of thing, though."

 

A look of what might be disappointment crosses over Cas' face, but then it's gone and he's changing the topic to schoolwork.

 

Which reminds Dean, he needs to pick out a book to write his English essay about.

 

\---

 

Dean usually avoids the school library like the plague. The place kind of gives him the creeps. Maybe it's the way the corridors seem to stretch endlessly on, despite the fact that the library is really pretty small. Or maybe it's the almost unnatural cold.

 

The library's always way colder than the rest of the school. The librarian claims it's because the heating system is busted, and the school's administrators are too cheap to fix it.

 

Dean hasn't actually decided on a book yet (it's free choice, something Miss Milton clearly thought would make them happy), so he wanders around aimlessly for a while. He picks up a couple of books off the shelves that look half-way interesting, puts them back a few lines in when they fail to engage him.

 

Someone moves behind him and Dean swirls around, heart caught in his throat. For a moment, he thinks it's Cas, but then he realizes that Cas' hair has never looked so neat.

 

"Jimmy," he says.

 

Jimmy looks him over, and Dean feels himself blushing for some reason. "Dean."

 

Jimmy's expression is blank, his tone dull. He's muted, somehow, and it's seriously off-putting considering that out of him and Cas, he's always been the livelier one.

 

"It's been a while, man."

 

"I've been out sick," Jimmy says.

 

Dean nods once, not knowing what else to say. This new somber Jimmy is freaking him out. "So... I guess I'll see you around?"

 

Jimmy doesn't reply, so Dean walks past him, exiting the library through the side entrance. He doesn't realize until later that forgot to pick a book for his essay.

 

\---

 

By the end of the week, on the day the first drafts are due, Dean still hasn't decided what to write about. He doesn't really know why he keeps putting it off, other than general lack of motivation, and the fact that he has nothing to turn in doesn't bother him like it should.

 

Miss Milton makes him stay after class. "I'm worried about you, Dean."

 

Dean shrugs. "I'm just a little behind."

 

Miss Milton leans against her desk, crossing her arms. "You know, it's no shame to need help. There are people you can talk to-"

 

"I'm fine," Dean cuts her off angrily.

 

To Miss Milton's credit, she doesn't even flinch at Dean's outburst. "You can turn in your first draft on Monday. But that's all the extension I can give you."

 

"Okay," Dean says. "Thanks. Can I go now?"

 

Miss Milton sighs. "Sure. Just remember, I'm always here if you need to talk."

 

\---

 

"How is your English essay coming along?" Cas asks.

 

Dean frowns at his lunch, not quite feeling up to looking Cas in the eye while he lies. "Fine."

 

"Have you finished the first draft yet?"

 

"No, _mom_ ," Dean says pointedly. "But I got an extension, so would you stop worrying?"

 

Cas is quiet for a while and Dean finally looks up. Cas' big blue eyes are somehow even bigger and bluer than usual, filled to the brim with concern.

 

"I do worry about you, Dean," Cas says.

 

Dean fidgets in his seat, tries not to dwell on how familiar those words sound. "Well, don't. I'll be fine."

 

Cas clearly doesn't buy it, but he drops the topic. They spend the rest of lunch break in awkward silence.

 

\---

 

Dean stays at the library after school, mostly out of a lingering sense of guilt. He tries to work on his essay, but it becomes apparent after a while that he's not going to get any work done. There's something about this place that makes him unable to focus. He keeps seeing movement in the corner of his eye, but when he looks there's nothing there.

 

Maybe he's going crazy. Wouldn't that be something.

 

\---

 

Dean dreams of dark library corridors that grow longer with every step he takes. Something reaches from out of the darkness and swallows him up, and he wakes up sweating.

 

\---

 

Dean does manage to scrape together a shitty first draft to turn in on Monday. Miss Milton tries to get him to stay after class anyway, probably to talk about his _feelings_ or whatever, but Dean pretends he doesn't notice and bails.

 

Then on Thursday, he bombs his first math test ever.

 

And of course Cas' first words to him at lunch are, "How did your test go?"

 

"I don't wanna talk about it," Dean mumbles. He feels like he should be more pissed at himself than he is - normally, he wouldn't even need to study for a math test to get a passing grade. But he just feels tired.

 

"Dean-"

 

"I said I don't want to talk about it," Dean repeats, voice hard. "Could you just mind your own fucking business for once in your life?"

 

Dean regrets the words as soon as he's said them, but it's too late to take them back.

 

"If you want me to leave," Cas says quietly, "just say so."

 

"I don't want you to leave." That much is true. "I just... I'm sick of everyone butting in. I'm sick of people telling me that they're worried about me."

 

"You know I only worry because I care about you."

 

Dean blushes. It's so like Cas to say something like this, completely unconcerned with how it might sound. He's always been like this: so open and kind, and not caring one bit if it makes him vulnerable. It makes Dean wish he were a better person, someone deserving of Cas' friendship.

 

"Me too," Dean mumbles. "About you, I mean."

 

Cas smiles.

 

\---

 

For some reason, Dean finds himself back in the library after school. He didn't even mean to go there, but it's where his feet took him. He's as drawn to this place as he is repelled by it.

 

He turns a corner and Jimmy's standing there by one of the shelves.

 

"What are you doing here?" Jimmy asks, not even looking away from the books to acknowledge Dean's arrival.

 

"None of your business," Dean says defensively. "What are _you_ doing here?"

 

Jimmy raises his hand. He's holding a book entitled _Paranormal Investigations_. "Catching up on some reading."

 

"Is that for a class?" Dean asks.

 

"Not quite." Jimmy smirks humorlessly, finally turning to look at him. "It's more a pet project of mine."

 

A sudden chill runs down Dean's spine. "Oh?"

 

"Yeah."

 

Jimmy lowers his hand again. His hooded eyes trace Dean's facial features, sending another burst of chills through Dean. He can't explain what it is, but there's something almost eerie about the way Jimmy's looking at him. Maybe it's his eyes. They look empty.

 

Dean suddenly realizes that they've been staring at each other for an inappropriately long time and looks away. "I should get going."

 

"You do that," Jimmy says.

 

\---

 

When Dean gets to his locker the next morning, Meg freaking Masters is waiting there for him.

 

"What do you want?"

 

"It's lovely to see you too, Dean-o," Meg drawls. "It's been so long. How are the kids?" Dean shoots her an unimpressed look and she rolls her eyes. "Relax. I just came by to see how you're doing."

 

Dean scoffs. "Is this a trick?"

 

"Believe it or not, I'm capable of human emotions," Meg says. "I can get worried too, okay?"

 

"You don't care about me," Dean points out.

 

Meg sighs and leans against the locker. "No, I don't. But I care about Clarence. How do you think he'd feel if he knew you're failing all of your classes?"

 

"Why do you think I'm failing?"

 

"Because I'm with you in those classes, dickhead, and I'm not completely blind."

 

Dean clenches his jaw, then turns to his locker and starts busying himself with opening it. It takes him a couple of tries before he remembers the right combination.

 

"Fine, ignore me." Meg sighs and straightens. "But you know I'm right."

 

\---

 

Dean dreams of Meg curling around him like a snake, whispering into his ear that she understands, that she can take the pain away. She kisses him and when they break apart it's not her eyes looking back at him, but Cas'. Their lips meet again, and the world crumbles around them.

 

\---

 

It's starting to snow.

 

Dean looks out the cafeteria windows, disinterested eyes following the snowflakes as they fall to the ground. He feels even more tired than usual. He's been having strange dreams again, but he can't remember what about. Whatever it is, it's been keeping him up at night.

 

"Dean?"

 

Dean turns his eyes back to Cas, who's watching him expectantly. "What?"

 

"Do you remember when we talked about the drive-in-theater?" Cas asks. "You said they weren't your 'thing'."

 

He raises his fingers and makes exaggerated air-quotes, making Dean smile despite himself. "Yeah?"

 

"I," Cas' eyes dart down. "What _is_ your thing?"

 

"You mean, like for a date?" Dean asks. Cas nods, still looking down, cheeks turning pink, and realization hits Dean so hard his head almost spins. "With you?"

 

After a brief pause, Cas nods again.

 

Dean opens his mouth but no sound comes out. How is he supposed to react? What is he supposed to say?

 

That, yeah, he's thought about this too? That he'd probably done a lot more than just thought about it if he wasn't such a goddamn coward? That he desperately wishes Cas had asked sooner, that either of them had?

 

He doesn't say any of these things. Instead, he says, "I gotta go."

 

He's on his feet and all but running out of the cafeteria before Cas can even say anything.

 

\---

 

Dean ends up in the library - _of fucking course he does_ \- and in his hurry he almost bowls Jimmy over.

 

Jimmy grabs his arm, steadying them both. "Where's the fire?"

 

"I just," Dean swallows, squirming in Jimmy's grasp, "I needed to get away from the cafeteria."

 

"Away from my brother, you mean."

 

Dean's eyes widen. "How-"

 

"You're not the only one who can see him," Jimmy says dryly. His expression is as blank as ever, betraying nothing.

 

He drags Dean by the arm, away from the entrance, between the shelves, until they're as isolated as they can get while still inside the school.

 

"You _knew_ ," Dean breathes. "All this time, you knew."

 

"Of course I knew."

 

Jimmy still hasn't let go of his arm. Dean's not sure he wants him to; Jimmy's hand on him, hot and heavy like a brand, is the only reason he's still sure he's not dreaming.

 

"I've been looking for ways to help him," Jimmy says.

 

"Your pet project?" Dean guesses.

 

Jimmy smirks at him. "Not just a pretty face, are you Winchester?"

 

"Screw you," Dean mutters.

 

It's the wrong thing to say, given the situation. Dean can feel himself blushing, but at least Jimmy's smirk slips away.

 

"Does _he_ know?" he asks. "Is Castiel even aware that he's..."

 

He trails off. The word's clearly too much for him, and Dean can't blame him. "I don't think so. You haven't talked to him?"

 

"I've been avoiding him," Jimmy admits quietly. "That's why I'm always here. He won't come here. He's afraid of the other spirit."

 

A bone-deep shiver runs through Dean. "There's _another_ ghost in the school?"

 

Jimmy gives him a weird look. "Of course. What did you think killed him?"

 

An aneurysm, Dean stupidly wants to reply. That was the official story, anyway. Just an unfortunate coincidence that it happened to Cas while he was by himself, that he wasn't found until minutes after he collapsed, when it was already too late.

 

"Why hasn't it killed more people?" Dean demands.

 

"It has. One every ten years. Castiel happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time."

 

Dean slumps against the shelf behind him. His body feels heavy, burdened with this sudden knowledge. Cas didn't just drop dead, he was _murdered_. His last moments alive were probably terrifying, filled with pain and confusion.

 

"I've found their name," Jimmy says. "The other spirit. I figured if they're gotten rid of, then maybe Castiel will want to-"

 

"Move on?" Dean cuts in angrily. "Leave? Forever?"

 

"He's not meant to be here. It's hurting him. If you loved him, you'd understand that."

 

Red flashes before Dean's eyes and then he's shoving Jimmy away, knocking him into a nearby wall. " _Fuck you_. What the hell do you know? You're the one who's been avoiding him. _You're_ the one who doesn't love him."

 

Dean sees the punch coming but he doesn't brace himself, instead welcoming the blow of Jimmy's fist against his cheek. He goes flying into the shelf behind him, knocking several books onto the floor. Jimmy follows and Dean is sure he's about hit him again, but instead he grabs Dean's shirt and slams their lips together.

 

It's no less violent than the previous blow, no less painful, and Dean answers it with all the fervor and anger he can muster, biting furiously at Jimmy's lips hard enough to draw blood.

 

Jimmy wrenches himself away, but doesn't let go of Dean's shirt. "Fuck. You've got no idea how long I've wanted to do that for."

 

"How long?" Dean asks.

 

Jimmy doesn't answer. He lets go of Dean's shirt, leans down to pick up the books that fell on the floor. "I'm going to Oak Hill Cemetery on midnight, tomorrow. Gonna send this bastard to hell, where he belongs." He straightens, hands the books to Dean, who accepts them thoughtlessly, too confused to protest. "You can meet me by the north gate if you want to help."

 

Dean blinks. His mind is still fighting to catch up with everything that happened in the last few minutes, and all he can think to do is ask again, "How long?"

 

"Too long."

 

Jimmy doesn't elaborate further, and he doesn't need to.

 

_Too long_

 

As in, since before Cas died.

 

\---

 

Dean dreams of Cas (or is it Jimmy?) pushing him against the shelves in the empty library, kissing him again and again, until blood spills past both their lips and they choke on it.

 

\---

 

"It's all right."

 

Cas' voice sounds distant and hollow, like it's coming to him from the end of a large tunnel. Dean looks at him, tries to see him as he did yesterday, alive and solid, and he can't. "What is?"

 

"That you don't want to date me," Cas says. He smiles and Dean would almost buy that it's genuine, but he knows him too well. "I understand."

 

Dean is also aware of, in a way that he wasn't until now, how people avert their eyes when they walk past him. Can't look too long at the crazy guy talking to himself, he might notice you.

 

"I do want to date you," Dean says. He knows he shouldn't, but he says it anyway. He can't stand lying to Cas anymore. He's done not talking. What does any of it matter, anyway? "But I can't. Because you're dead."

 

"Dead?" Cas repeats incredulously. "What are you talking about, Dean?"

 

And suddenly it's too much to take. Sitting across from Cas, who is there but not, right in front of Dean but forever out of reach, and not even realizing it. "You fucking _died_ Cas. You can't date me, you can't date anyone, because you're a _fucking ghost_. You're dead but you're still here, and it's fucking _killing me_."

 

Dean's voice grows progressively louder, until he's shouting, and now no one is averting their eyes. They're all staring shamelessly, but Dean can only see Cas, who has gone wide-eyed and pale-faced. He's never looked more like a corpse, Dean thinks unbidden, and shudders.

 

"A ghost - what are you -" Cas' voice is like static and then he's flickering like a flame about to go out. "Dean-"

 

Dean reaches out for him but it's too late. He's gone, and with his disappearance, every light bulb in the cafeteria explodes. People start shrieking, running for the doors, but Dean can't move even as glass starts raining over him.

 

\---

 

Dean dreams of Cas and of shards of glass raining down on him, tearing his pale skin like paper until there is nothing left. He wakes up, and it's near midnight.

 

\---

 

Jimmy's waiting by the north gate, just as he promised, holding a shovel, a small bag, and a crowbar.

 

"In case the ghost shows up," he explains as he hands the crowbar to Dean. "We need to be able to protect ourselves."

 

"With this?" Dean asks. The crowbar feels heavy in his hand, but he doesn't understand what damage it can do to a ghost.

 

"Just trust me."

 

They walk on, to the older part of the cemetery, and it's not until they reach what Jimmy assures him is the right grave that Dean realizes he's got no idea what they're here to do.

 

"Dig up the bones, salt them, and light them on fire."

 

Dean nods, feeling vaguely queasy. But if this will get rid of the thing that killed Cas, he's willing to do anything.

 

They take turns digging, the other standing guard with the crowbar. It's a cold night and digging through frozen ground is slow work. It's a couple of hours before they hit the coffin, and the ghost still hasn't shown up.

 

They salt the bones, douse them in ethanol and light them on fire. A fierce gust of wind blows through the cemetery, but nothing else seems to happen.

 

"Are you sure you have the right grave?" Dean asks.

 

"Positive," Jimmy replies grimly.

 

Dean looks down at the burning bones, thinks how this is Cas' killer. He feels a sense of hollow satisfaction but it soon fades, leaving him with nothing but a heavy sort of sadness.

 

"We should go tell Cas," he finally says.

 

Jimmy shoots him a surprised look, then nods. "Now?"

 

\---

 

The school doesn't actually have an alarm system. Or at least, so has Dean heard, and tonight he's counting on that.

 

No alarms start ringing when Dean jimmies open the lock on the backdoor, and they sneak inside. The dark hallway stretches out in front of them, their footsteps echoing eerily as they walk down it. The cafeteria is at the opposite end of the school but as they pass the library, Dean catches something moving through the window on the door.

 

"Wait," he whispers, grabbing Jimmy's shoulder.

 

They go inside, Jimmy holding the crowbar raised, Dean with the canister of salt in his hand.

 

The library is a mess. Books and torn out pages littering the floor, several shelves knocked over, the librarian's computer lying face-down on the desk, and at least a couple of windows broken.

 

"What are you doing here?"

 

Both boys twirl around. Cas is standing there, or rather floating, a couple of inches above the ground.

 

"Castiel," Jimmy exhales, sounding like someone just knocked all the air out him.

 

"It's gone," Cas says. "I don't know where, but..."

 

"You're talking about the ghost?" Dean asks.

 

Cas smiles bitterly. "I think you mean the _other_ ghost."

 

"Castiel, Jimmy says again. Dean looks over at him, and there are silent tears streaming down his cheeks. "Oh, God."

 

"We burned its bones," Dean informs Cas, since it doesn't look like Jimmy's gonna get around to it. "It's gone to... wherever evil spirits go."

 

Cas nods thoughtfully. "It tried to leave here. I felt it was about to leave and I," he pauses, looking confused, "I don't know what I did, but I didn't want it to hurt anyone else."

 

"You fought it."

 

"I suppose so. Oh!" Cas looks up, somewhere over their shoulders. Dean turns around, but he can't see anything. "I think I need to go now."

 

Jimmy chokes out a sob. Dean himself feels like his heart's been caught in a vice, like something is squeezing the life out of it. "Go towards the light?" he manages to joke anyway.

 

"I'm sorry," Cas says.

 

He flickers again, just like he did in the cafeteria, and in the next moment he's gone.

 

Just like that.

 

\---

 

"Anyone sitting here?"

 

Meg's voice shakes Dean from his reverie. He looks up and she raises an eyebrow at him, daring him to send her away.

 

"No," he says. "Go ahead."

 

It's been a week since Cas... left. Jimmy began to join Dean in the cafeteria during lunch break two days ago, though always sitting next to him rather than opposite him. Meg, however, has no qualms about being in Cas' old spot.

 

"Well, look at you two," she says as she sits down, eyes darting between the two of them.

 

"Don't," Dean warns.

 

"I wasn't gonna say anything."

 

Dean glances at Jimmy. He's poking disinterestedly at his food, but he raises his head in a slight nod to acknowledge Meg. He looks calm, put-together, but underneath the table his hand is clinging to Dean's like a lifeline. Occasionally, his tongue darts out of his mouth to worry at the scab still present on his lower lip.


End file.
